


Fly

by clare009



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:46:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clare009/pseuds/clare009
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Severus Snape announces what Hermione Granger fears most, she must risk what she currently has in order to gain, or lose, everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fly

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally written in 2007 and posted to Ashwinder on Sycophant Hex. Decided to post some of my older fic here for god knows what reason. Enjoy.

With the dull crack of Apparition, Hermione Granger arrived in the overgrown slice of back yard that belonged to a dilapidated row house. Juggling a stack of books and newspapers in the crook of one arm, and her wand and two large, lidded paper cups in their cardboard holder in the opposite hand, she managed to cast a silent Alohomora that turned the doorknob of the back door and allowed her entry into the kitchen. She let the books and papers slide onto the table next to the door while she kicked off her shoes. With a bit of a struggle, she shrugged out of her damp robe, glad she had worn it over her white cotton blouse and comfortable beige slacks but pleased to be rid of the heavy item now that she was indoors. Then, clutching onto her cardboard tray with the contents of the paper cups oozing out past their lids, she padded quietly through the kitchen and into the main living room of the house.  
  
There, in front of a cold fireplace, sitting in a threadbare wing-backed chair in the darkness created by drape-covered windows, was her employer.  
  
"I brought coffee," she said softly and moved around the chair to place one of the cardboard cups on the table next to it.   
  
"You know I can't stand that rubbish," the man said.  
  
"Yet, you still drink it," she said. With a snap of her wand, the curtains were drawn and morning light streamed into the room. Dust motes danced in the air.  
  
"Must you do that?" A hand snaked out from under a black robe and reached for the cup she had set on the table.  
  
"Yes," Hermione said, smiling a little at his usual morning irritability. She was used to it by now. After all, one did not work for Severus Snape and expect polite conversation at nine in the morning. He'd be marginally more civil once he'd imbibed the caffeine. He was always a challenge, though, one that kept her on her toes, but one that she felt imminently suited to. She was starting to get the hang of his quirks and habits and had a list of workarounds tucked away in the corner of her mind. Coffee in the morning always eased that painful transition. Not taking any of his comments personally helped a great deal, too.  
  
Having disposed of her makeshift cardboard tray, and with latte in hand, she made herself at home in the chair opposite Snape. "Shall we go over the list from yesterday?" she said.  
  
He glanced at her out the corners of his eyes. "If you insist. Although I would like to note, that you work for me and not the other way around."   
  
"You do pay me to do your research, so I suppose one could see it that way," Hermione said with a smirk. It helped to stay light and to respond to him with sarcasm rather than indignation. Indignation got you eviscerated.  
  
He snorted at her, then, he did something she thought was rather odd - he lifted his hand and touched the side of his face, near his temple, almost as if he were self conscious about something. Hermione sat up a little more straight in her chair and surreptitiously glanced over at him. It was nine in the morning, and his hair was combed, the stubble removed from his face, and his black robes clean. Usually he was stained and rumpled in the morning and would disappear into the forbidden area upstairs sometime before noon and return more presentable after lunch. Snape was not by habit an early riser, rather he liked to stay up late - did his best thinking after midnight, he said. The only time Hermione had been around to witness his best thinking, she'd been too tired to really appreciate it, being a morning person herself. But, on reflection, he had been rather spectacular in the small hours after the clock struck twelve, and full of unfathomable energy. His morning persona was in stark contrast to that.  
  
The fact that he had changed his morning routine put Hermione on her guard. With Snape, you never knew quite where you stood. She decided that instead of plunging right into the work as she usually did - it was the best way to bring him out of his lethargy - she would try a different tack today. "Perhaps we'll leave the list for later," she said. She brought the latte up to her lips and inhaled the coffee aroma before she sipped the hot liquid. "I did notice something in the Prophet that I thought might interest you. Apparently, Hogwarts is finally ready to re-open - they are reporting that the new year will begin as scheduled in September."   
  
Snape shifted in his chair. For a wild moment, Hermione had the impression that he was distinctly uncomfortable.  
  
"I had heard something to that effect," he said, muttering the words fast and low so that she had to strain to catch them.  
  
He was uncomfortable. Almost embarrassed, or, at the very least, he was hiding something. Hermione wasn't one to let this this go. Snape was hiding something from her, and she didn't deserve that. "You knew," she said in a level voice, "about the school. No doubt Minerva told you. Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
He shrugged in that irritatingly nonchalant way of his, like her concerns were of no importance. She hated that about him. "I am not contracted to divulge all my correspondence to you. You work for me, not the other way around, Granger."  
  
"Granger, now, is it? I thought, these last few months, we had settled on a first-name basis, Severus."   
  
"I settled on nothing." His arms were crossed firmly over his chest, and he turned his head away from the challenge in her eyes.   
  
His childish reluctance to be forthright irked her. It had taken her months and months to cultivate a level of trust between them, and this morning, he seemed to want to throw it all away. "Fine," she said, crossing her arms in mirror of his. "As you said, I work for you."  
  
Snape rolled his eyes and sighed melodramatically. "I don't know what your problem is today. We've managed together reasonably well over the last year. I wasn't sure this whole thing would work out when I first suggested it, but even I'll admit that although my expectations were low, the arrangement has exceeded them."  
  
Why, thank you, you're too kind. Hermione bit her lip to stop from uttering the sarcasm. Even she could hear the grudging compliment in Snape's words. "I thought the arrangement was working out quite well, myself," she said, cautiously. He was still hiding something from her, and she was determined to figure it out. "I was rather surprised, myself. We got on with relative ease after I offered to assist you in return for your tutelage as I studied for my NEWTs. Minerva and dear old Filius were good to me, but you were the one who challenged me beyond the regular syllabus."  
  
Hermione saw that Snape gradually relaxed his stance as her gentler tone took hold of him. "I suppose you did rise to the occasion," he said charitably. "Which is why, when you had completed your NEWTs, I offered you a chance to prove yourself as my assistant."   
  
"I hope I have been able to prove my worth to you in that regard, Severus." The words she had not intended had somehow slipped out. Hermione glanced down at her lap where she now nervously held her hands. This desire for recognition had been her constant need ever since she had decided to ask him to help her with her NEWTs. The need to prove herself to this one man in particular verged on pathetic.  
  
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, and just when he was about to speak, she cut him off. "No," she said, shaking her head, "I don't think I want to hear what you think of me."  
  
Snape raised his eyebrow. "Perhaps not," he said. "For all your bravado, you really wouldn't have the stomach for it." The words were bitter.  
  
He was right. For all her seeming nonchalance at the barbs he threw at her, sometimes she did take it personally. She couldn't help it. His last words hit her squarely where it hurt the most. Not only was she concerned with what he thought of her in a professional light, but recently, other things had begun to seep into her consciousness. She could pinpoint the start of this new awareness on one of the rare times when he had allowed her down into his laboratory because he needed four hands rather than two to brew the potion he was working on. Usually, she was relegated to dry research - although she never tired of his books - and other, more mundane tasks. But, when he allowed her to brew with him - those were some of the more pleasurable times she could remember.  
  
A few months ago he had curtly requested her assistance, and she had followed him, without question, down the narrow stairs and into the dim cellar beneath his house. The laboratory was a clutter of potion ingredients and equipment, and her fingers always itched to arrange the place into a more systematised state. But, Snape would been infuriated should she ever interfere with the delicate balance between chaos and order that he had achieved in his laboratory. He knew precisely where everything was, and watching him brew was like watching a choreographed dance. She always followed his instructions very conscientiously, focusing on the smooth thread of his voice. But, on that day, for a moment, as they both hovered over one of the large cauldrons, she had lost track of what he was saying and had become mesmerised by the low tone of his voice. She was arrested by the intricate movements of his hands as he stirred the various rune shapes and added ingredients into the potion. Her hand was raised over the cauldron, ready to add her contribution, but she didn't follow through. Snape stopped his stirring and reached over to place his hand over hers.  
  
"Now, Hermione," he said in a low tone, "add the Boswellia extract and perform the charm while I complete the runes." His hand was a gentle guide to hers, a contrast to his usual terse demeanour.  
  
She let the contents of the vial she held drip languidly into the potion, while his thumb rested on the pulse at her wrist. She spoke the words of the charm in rhythm with the motion of his wand as he used it to paint the last symbols onto the potion. And then, it seemed that the spell had also been performed on her, because her senses suddenly narrowed to the point of contact between their hands and she found it hard to breathe. She could feel nothing but the heat of his fingers and the rushing of her blood through her veins, and as she looked up into his face, she found his black eyes fixed on her.  
  
But, he removed his hand abruptly from hers, and the spell was broken. With a sharp flick of his wand, he doused the flame beneath the cauldron and prepared to move it onto the bench to cool. Hermione stepped back, out of his way, and staggered slightly. Her senses were reeling from the experience. But, what was more disturbing, was that Snape seemed singularly unperturbed. She was shocked to realise that she had been the only one to feel the strange connection.  
  
Ever since then, she had been unable to forget about it.  
  
Ever since then, she had gone over the moment again and again, trying in vain to figure out why, with Snape of all people, a simple touch had felt so shockingly intimate in a way that neither of her lovers' ever had.  
  
Hermione looked over at him as he sat, sprawled out, in his chair. He was staring morosely out of the window as his last words hung heavily in the air between them. The truth was, over the last few months, she had tried to hide this thing that was growing inside her, but it was getting increasingly difficult. There were moments, like now, where it threatened to burst out of her, where she wanted so desperately to confess the thing that she had trouble even admitting to herself. She knew, though, that if she ever let slip, let one hint drop about her growing feelings for him, then it would be over. He did not see her in the same light, of that she was certain. He would crush her, and not only would she lose her job, but any contact with him would be done with.   
  
Cursing herself and the vagaries of her heart, Hermione carefully buttoned up the thing inside her and smoothed out her slacks with the backs of her hands. She would find a way to wean herself from him one day. But, not today.  
  
"Well, I do suppose there is work to be getting on with," she said, and stood from her chair. "I'll be in the study - we'll get to that list after lunch, shall we?"  
  
As she moved past his chair, she felt a hand latch on to her elbow and pull her back. "Tell me, Hermione, what will you do at the end of the summer when I return to Hogwarts?"  
  
The bottom fell out of her make-believe world.   
  
"Return to Hogwarts," she whispered, cold dread spreading through her veins from the ice that had clutched at her heart. "They've offered you a position back at the school."  
  
"Two, actually. I have my pick of either Potions or Defence Against the Dark Arts, and I've been invited to return to my spot as Slytherin Head of House." His fingers remained curled around her arm as he looked up at her. His features were a bland mask, only she could sense how he laughed at her behind it.  
  
"Slughorn's decided to retire, has he?"  
  
"He never wanted to come out of retirement in the first place. I think he's relieved that I've accepted."   
  
"Quite."  
  
"But, the question remains, Hermione, what will you do?"  
  
She turned her head from his stare, unable to bear it any longer. She could feel the moisture that clung to her lashes, now, and did not know if she should laugh or cry. What would she do? It was hardly something she wanted to contemplate, yet here he was demanding a response. All along, she had known how little he regarded her, yet to come face to face with it was a different reality. In just three short weeks, he would be returning to the school, and she would be torn from his company. There was no way he would let her ingratiate herself into his life, now. And, finally having to confront the alternative, Hermione came to a full understanding of just how much he had come to mean to her.  
  
Moving her arm, she tried to step back from him, but he only clutched it more firmly. His silence demanded that she answer him.  
  
"I expect I shall be looking for alternative employment," she said. "I don't suppose it's too much to ask for a reference?"   
  
"I don't suppose it's too much for you to turn and look at me?"  
  
She did, slowly. His tone held no room for rebellion, even though every inch of her was poised to flee. His face was still devoid of expression as he craned his neck to look up at her. Hermione blinked, trying not to let her weakness show through to him. His hand, the one that held her arm, began to slide across her skin until he reached her wrist. The touch, reminiscent of the first one that had awakened her senses to him, made her shiver.  
  
"Tell me," he said as his thumb began to trace feather-light patterns onto the back of her hand, "why does this bother you so much? I thought you would be glad to be rid of my overbearing presence."  
  
Ignoring the way his thumb was teasing her hand was almost painful. "I actually enjoy my work, Severus; that can't be too hard for you to understand." She could not hide the tremble in her voice as she spoke.  
  
"I could always... recommend you to a colleague. A good researcher is a precious commodity in this field."  
  
At any other time, the rare compliment would have buoyed her up, but today, it stung. "It's not that simple," she said and took a shaky breath. She was standing on the edge of a cliff, and she knew she could turn back, take the safe path down the mountain, but then, she would never know what lay beyond it. Her other choice was to leap off into the unknown, but she had no knowledge of whether or not she could fly, and her odds of plummeting into the dark and being dashed on the unseen rocks below were rather high at the moment.  
  
"Nothing is ever simple," Snape said. "Explain it to me, then." He looked at her through hooded eyes, and his voice was low. The combination of his touch and the velvet compulsion in his voice drew her nearer, to the point where she was standing almost flush against his knees. He held her there with his look alone - his hand on hers was a mere formality.  
  
"I don't know if I can."  
  
"Try," he said, and the catch in his voice was so subtle, she almost missed it.  
  
Hermione opened her mouth, but the words that were waiting there would not come out. There was only one thing left to do, and she hoped to hell that her wings weren't merely vestigial lumps after all. She leaned down and kissed him.  
  
At first, she could feel his body stiffen at the uninvited touch. But, with her eyes squeezed shut against the light, she held to her purpose and kept her lips on his. As gently as possible, she moved her mouth, let her lips say everything she could not put into words. How she yearned for him. How much he had become such a guilty pleasure for her. Then, when she knew that he could be in no doubt about the way she felt, she started to draw away.   
  
His hand reached through her hair to hold the back of her head and brought her crashing back to him.For a split second, she felt his indrawn breath, and then, he kissed her back.  
  
Pleasure blossomed throughout her body as their mouths began that age-old dance of lips and tongues. Hermione's knees began to buckle with the sensation. She found herself leaning into him to the point where she began to slide to the floor. Snape's arm slipped around her waist and held her against him. Leisurely, he moved from her mouth and began to paint kisses along her throat, making her suck in her breath at each point of contact. The hand that was around her waist slid down to find her buttocks and made its home there. The position was an awkward one, however, and before long, Hermione was forced to to shift her balance so that she came to be seated in his lap.  
  
She smirked down at Snape, relishing his flushed cheeks and the wild look in his eyes - the most discomposed she had ever seen him. Even in anger, he still managed to retain that one thread of control. He dragged a finger across the curve of her jaw and his swollen lips twitched in satisfaction.  
  
"I never quite dared to believe that you would... I wondered, hoped... you never gave me one clue," Hermione said. Her voice was soft, but she could not keep the thread of accusation out of it.  
  
"It would not have done, Hermione." His words were a sibilant caress that made goosebumps rise on the back of her neck. "I could not very well take advantage of you while I was paying your salary, could I?"  
  
She raised her eyebrow at him. "But, I'm still in your employ, at least for the next few weeks, Severus Snape. Are you saying that even your own twisted morality doesn't make sense?"  
  
"Not a chance, Granger," he said as he leaned into her, and then he whispered into her ear, "You're fired."  
  
Hermione grinned at his coffee-laced breath against her skin. "Well then," she said, scooting off his lap to stand up, "you'd best show me to your bed. Three months of foreplay is more than enough for anyone."  
  
"A bit forward, don't you think? It's not even nine o' clock in the morning." Despite his words, Snape still managed to grab hold of her proffered hand and rose from his chair.   
  
He seemed to tower above her, and Hermione had to strain her neck to look up at him. She couldn't wipe off the silly grin that had spread itself across her face. Snape managed to find a way, though, as he pulled her against his long, lean frame and bent his head to place a hot, hungry kiss on her mouth. She sighed against him, drinking in all she could, recording every moment, every nuance of him, against the moment that she would wake up in a sweat of tangled sheets to find it was all just another frustrating dream.  
  
He released her, and said, "I want to make myself clear, Hermione."  
  
She nodded, reluctantly. Here it comes...  
  
"It's not an easy thing for me express my innermost thoughts. I don't wear my heart on my sleeve."  
  
Unlike certain reckless Gryffindors. No, you certainly don't.  
  
"For years I played a double role, and hiding my true self - well, let's just say my life, and others, depended on my ability to do so."  
  
"You don't have to - "  
  
He shushed her with his hand. "You need to know that I'm not going to give you false platitudes of love or other such declarations. I don't even know if I have the capacity to love, any more. There is much that I will never be able to share with you."  
  
"I don't want that. All I want, is whatever it is you are willing to give me."  
  
"It will not amount to much. I'm afraid that you'll want more than I am able to give you."  
  
Hermione sighed. This man hardly even knew himself what he was capable of. But, she knew, and that was enough. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. But, yes, I understand. I come to you under no illusions."  
  
Her answer satisfied him, for he gave her one more lingering kiss, then led her through the concealed doorway and up the uneven stair to his bedroom.  
  
The room was sparse, and the bed was neatly made, and that was the only thing about his bedroom that Hermione noticed as she fell back onto the bed and pulled him down on top of her. His mouth immediately sought out hers and stirred the embers that were burning inside her. As they kissed, she took the time to drag her hands down his back, taking in the sharp jut of his shoulder blades and then the slim, but firm, shape of his back beneath his robe.   
  
Snape moved once more to her to her neck and throat, making her arch her back. His hands stroked her face and splayed out her hair, then moved down to work at the top button of her blouse. His lips found her collar bone, a weak spot of hers, and she moaned under the touch. Just as she was about to reach for her wand, Snape managed to pop the first button open to expose the tops of her breasts and white satin of her bra. He let out a breath he had been holding, and Hermione felt it across her chest. A supple finger stole across the edge of her bra, just as his other hand made good work of another button.  
  
"Too slow," Hermione said, out of breath, and reached for the wand tucked into her waistband.  
  
"No," Snape said sharply. He held her hand in check. "That will spoil the fun." His persistent finger slipped under the material of her bra brushed over a soft nipple, which spontaneously hardened. Another button popped open. "Only three more to go," he whispered.  
  
He was torturing her, and he knew it. His hand left her breast and traced the skin that his deliberately slow removal of her blouse revealed. By the time he reached her hips and the band of her stylish but comfortable slacks, Hermione bucked her hips in demand. Snape, whose cheek rested against her belly, laughed, and the sound reverberated through her skin.  
  
"Does this need to be a lesson in patience?"  
  
Hermione bit her lip in frustration and let out a groan. In response, Snape, ran a hand up her still covered thigh, to the juncture between her legs. The couple of layers that covered her did not dull the sensation. Hermione could feel damp of her knickers and wondered if he could, too.  
  
Snape shifted so that his head rested now just below her hip bone, and with his hand gently stroking the material between her legs, he inhaled. Hermione felt more than heard the sigh he gave and answered with one of her own. If he couldn't feel that she was aroused, he could certainly smell it.  
  
With Snape otherwise occupied, Hermione decided to take some matters into her own hands and not only did away with her blouse, but made quick work of her bra, too. She gave him a challenging smirk as he looked up at her, over her exposed breasts.  
  
"I will concede," he said, his voice laced with wonder, "that in some cases, patience is not a virtue."  
  
He lifted himself up, then reached for her, first her shoulders, then her arms, then her stomach, then finally, his hands reverently touched her breasts. He splayed his fingers gently over them and brushed her nipples. Hermione didn't usually care too much for having her breasts touched, she was more sensitive in other areas, but Snape seemed to be so enamoured with them that she didn't want to break the spell. When he dipped his head to one and began to lick and suck at her nipple, she arched her back obediently at the pleasant touch, meanwhile, her pussy begged for attention.  
  
It was time for a little payback. Hermione slipped her hand from Snape's back, which she had been lightly stroking, and found her mark between his legs. Snape's head shot up as she felt his erect penis through the cloth of his robes. His eyes rolled back a little as her fingers sought him out, and she could tell that her ministrations had their desired effect.  
  
"You're going to pay for this," he said, between gasps of his breath.  
  
"I hope so," Hermione said, in all earnestness. Her fingers moved clumsily over his penis, and she silently cursed the clothes that were obstructing her. "We really need to get you out of these robes, Severus, I want to feel you properly."  
  
"Do what you will," he said dramatically, "you have me in the palm of your hand."  
  
Hermione grabbed a handful of Snape's robes and pulled them up over his head. He followed the lead she had taken and was quick to remove his underwear. Before long, Hermione was able to replace her hand on his penis, but this time, the skin of her hand met his bare, warm flesh, and he groaned out loud.  
  
"God, I'm not sure I can last, Hermione. I'm not as young as I once was, and you have no idea of the effect you have on me."  
  
She continued to slide her hand up and down the shaft of his penis, memorising the shape and the fit in her hand. Using her thumb, she flicked it over the tip. Snape thrust involuntarily into her hand. "I think I can guess," she said. She let go of him and reached up to drag his head down to hers. Kissing him hard, she thrust her tongue into his mouth, trying to convey the urgency she felt. She knew that the time for teasing was over.  
  
Snape seemed to understand that her patience was indeed running out, and while he continued to kiss her, his hand swiftly unzipped her slacks, and he helped her wriggle out of them. Then, he plunged his hand into her pants, and his fingers slid into the wet folds of her pussy.   
  
Hermione gasped into his mouth, then whimpered as his clever fingers found her clitoris. He began to swirl the sensitive nub, and his touch was as deft and sure as only a Potions Master's could be. Before long, he had managed to put her right back at the top of the cliff, only this time, when she let go, she knew she would soar.  
  
"Severus," she said, "I want you to feel it, when I come."  
  
"I will, my witch," he whispered into her ear.  
  
"No, you need to be inside me. I want your cock to send me over the edge."  
  
She felt his teeth scrape the side of her neck in response. "I won't be able to maintain..."  
  
"You won't need to," Hermione said, and bit off a cry as he flicked her clitoris one last time.  
  
He slipped her pants off, then leaned over her and nudged her legs open with a knee.  
  
Reaching down, Hermione took hold of him and guided him to her entrance. With one push, he filled her.  
  
Snape began to thrust, and she could see that it took every ounce of his control to hold back.  
  
"God, Hermione, see what you fucking do to me. God."  
  
His litany was lost on her as one thrust brought his pelvic bone into direct contact with her clitoris and Hermione found herself flying. Her orgasm swept over her in waves.  
  
Snape continued to thrust wildly into her pussy, but true to his word, he wasn't far behind her. With one last, deep, guttural sound, he came inside her. He arched his back, and his face contorted into what could have been ecstasy or agony, or both.  
  
Hermione held him tightly when he slumped down on top of her. When he rolled off, his penis slipping from her pussy, she felt the wetness, the evidence of his orgasm, leak out of her. He stretched his arms around her and pulled her into his embrace.  
  
Later, after they had both had a chance to dwell in the afterglow and catch their breath, Hermione said with a sigh, "I suppose I do have to look for another job." Her fingers casually played with the hair at the base of his neck.  
  
"Mmm," was Snape's response. He was already starting to drift into post-coital slumber.  
  
"You really are a bastard, Severus Snape," Hermione said. "But whether you like it or not, I think I might stick around for a bit. I don't think I'm quite ready to give up your library."  
  
"As long as you don't expect me to pay you," he said, sleepily.  
  
"No, but you could help me work on my Curriculum Vitae."  
  
"You know, there is an opening at Hogwarts. They're looking for a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."  
  
Hermione's fingers stopped playing in his hair. She turned to look at him. "And how would you know that?"  
  
"I've just decided that I'm better suited to teaching Potions."  
  
"Do you think I'm qualified to teach Defence?"  
  
"Apart from bloody Potter, you're probably the most qualified person, besides myself."  
  
"And this wouldn't have anything to do with being able to see me on a regular basis once the term starts?"  
  
He snorted. "Of course not."  
  
Hermione smiled broadly and cuddled up closer to him. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, shall we?"


End file.
